


we'll sleep dreamlessly this time

by adomaniccatnerd



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Annabeth Chase-centric (Percy Jackson), Bittersweet Ending, Everyone Has A Backstory, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Percy Jackson has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), Sad Ending, Slow Burn, So Much Friendship, So much Lore, annabeth and leo and thalia and jason are best friends, im more original than that, leo is smart here, lets go, lets just say i chose not to use warnings for a reason, not zombies tho, sorta sad? maybe? not really?, theyre so close your honor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adomaniccatnerd/pseuds/adomaniccatnerd
Summary: "Six months since the beginning and it only happens faster. They never even got the chance to name it.I call it the Decay. Capital D Decay, at least in my head. The other three have been calling it that for a while, too. It rips through the topsoil; it's a gunshot of a disease, and nothing that breathes ever survives. Trees rot from the inside out. The ground collapses right beneath you. The air tastes like cyanide."OR,The world is ending.The world is ending, and Annabeth Chase has Jason and Thalia and Leo, and she'll be damned if she ever trusts anyone else. But when the apocalypse leads her right to some Jackson boy's crew, she'll have to reckon with the desperate hereafter. And maybe, just maybe—find peace in the tragic goodbye.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Jason Grace & Percy J. & Hazel Levesque & Piper McLean & Leo Valdez & Frank Zhang, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	1. i know you

**Author's Note:**

> So, like. Hello! I present what i lovingly call fanfic 2: electric boogaloo :)
> 
> I posted this before. And then abandoned it, because my sense of joy sort of abandoned me. But you know what? To my own stupid brain i say FUCK YOU, i love this story, and by God i will finish it.
> 
> TW for mild swearing, a sad (bittersweet? Tragic? It's definitely happy, just - wrong) ending, and annabeth chase's intrusive thoughts. Other than that - i really hate my writing right now, so i hope you guys don't.
> 
> Onwards! And enjoy!

"I know you

That gleam in your eyes is so familiar."

–Once Upon A Dream, Lana Del Rey

We're lucky. We're so, so horrifically lucky, and it's all I can think as Leo takes my hand and we run, run, _run_ , away from the Decay that eats up the trees.

Of _course_ it happens on the one night I'm not standing guard, because Annabeth Chase is nothing if not unlucky. There's fog, and fog, and more fog yet and my head _hurts_ and my joints all pop as Leo drags me forward, every last ache magnified against the backdrop of a freezing cold wind. It whistles past my ears, and for once that's a good thing, because it helps me wake up. I think I might have been having some weird dream–a sunset, maybe? I remember birds chirping, somewhere high above me.

_That's a stupid dream. Birds don't chirp anymore_.

Leo pulls me forward. It's far too fast. But I've got no way and no right to tell him to stop. Jason is right behind us–somewhere in my foamy thoughts I wonder whether he's remembered his glasses; he has, they're clutched in his right hand, good–on his back and other arm there are way more backpacks than any sixteen-year-old can realistically carry.

Somewhere in the tired backwater recesses of my mind, I think, _That's good_. Jason and Leo are both here. We're right in the center of a Decay. That's horrifying. We're still together.

But something is missing. Something's wrong, and in-between all the running and panting and waking up and scanning Leo and Jason to make sure they're okay I can't figure out what it is. 

Then, we've either picked up the pace or a royally strong gust of icy air hits us, because I'm suddenly smacked awake and–

" _THALIA_! Leo, I can't see her! She's fallen back, _Leo–"_

He grips my hand even tighter and we charge forward. "Not the time!" His voice sounds a hundred miles away.

"What the _hell_ do you mean not the time–"

" _Oh por el amor del Dios_ – Annabeth, she's way in the back, she's making sure we don't leave anything behind, now run!"

I'm about to punch him right there, mid-run and all, until I finally hear a faint voice from far behind me–"Smarty don't you _dare_ stop running or we're going to get Decayed as _shit_ "–and that's good enough to convince me.

It's a full moon tonight. Jason catches up to us, just for a second. I use the chance to grab one of the backpacks he's carrying. The friction against his back can't feel good, whatever - _better than falling behind because his load is too heavy_. We're in the middle of the main road. That's good, that's a great sign. They're all listening to what I've said before. The Decay has a harder time getting us here.

I can't actually hear it happening. Or maybe I would hear it, if we stopped running and the wind died down. There's the slightest tremor in the road below me. The oxygen is growing stale. Behind us, Thalia and Jason are probably in the worst of it, balancing on broken soil and choking down air that stings. The Decay's not exactly known for taking its time.

Ten minutes pass. Leo doesn't slow down. Inexplicably, I think of back when we went to school. 

Our coach adored him. He always had a spot on the track team. That's not to say he actually took it–I still think he's stupid for not taking the chance. He was one of those boys who'd have always been welcome, the minute he said yes. Thalia hates that she can't keep up with him.

I can still feel the Decay behind us. It's longer than usual this time. We'll be running till the stars blink out. 

But we've outrun it a hundred times now. And we'll do it again.

I tighten my grip on Leo's hand. I keep running.

* * *

"Woah, is that the border?"

_No way_. We've really travelled that far? I put down Thalia's backpack and look to where Jason's sitting under a tree. Most days, he wouldn't be caught dead not helping out–and honestly, I'd never let it slide either–but being the guy who sprinted six miles with everyone's backpacks on gets you privileges the next day. Thalia, as usual, is farther away, closer to where last night's Decay burned out, and Leo is hidden under some abandoned car we found in the area. He's not going to get much out of it. Nobody wants to ride a car anymore, but Leo insists on searching them anyways.

Jason yells again. "Leo, is that the border?"

The little crevice under the car shakes. "Bit occupied over here!"

Thalia shouts from the perimeter, "Wear your glasses, dumbass!"

"They're dirty!"

"So clean them!"

He's keeping them in his left pocket. I snatch them out and clean them myself.

"Sometimes you're really dumb, you know that?" His glasses are ridiculously easy to clean. I'm honestly not sure if he already knows and just likes annoying me. "But yeah, that sign marks the border. Beyond it is... Delaware?"

"Pennsylvania." He cracks a small smile. "But you were close."

I roll my eyes at him. Trust Jason of all people to remember what the states look like in the middle of an apocalypse.

"What do you think Pennsylvania's like?" He asks, adjusting his lenses.

_Pennsylvania, huh_. I don't remember hearing much about it, to be honest. Everyone liked talking about it in history class, but I barely remember that, too. No monuments, or famous scientists, or heroes that I know of. It's just Pennsylvania–the border gates less than five miles away–the place we're going when the next Decay strikes.

Jason shrugs. "It's got a pretty big population. Or technically had one. We'll find a lot of houses there."

A lot of houses is... actually sort of amazing. We haven't had a house to camp in for weeks. I hate sleeping on the grass, and I know everyone else feels the same way. Grass is vulnerability, idiocy, Decay _central_. And assuming you even survive the Decay–the same way we have these last four months, for example–there's still so much you can lose. In a house, you've got days before the foundations fall. You can pack. Out here, you get minutes before the air thins out.

Jason pokes my shoulder and I look over to see him grinning. I smile at him. "Beth already making a game plan?"

"That name's off-limits. You know that."

"I just wanna know what you're thinking." He gives me such a ridiculous smile that I consider tackling him. "You know, with you being second-in-command and all–"

"Oh you know _what,_ Grace–"

"I mean, it's true. I was the hero last night–"

And then I _actually_ tackle him, and we fall to the ground wrestling and laughing,. Thalia's immediately cheering me on, and three minutes later I win–I always win, that's just how it goes–and I smirk as Jason reluctantly names us co-commanders.

"I gotta go," I say, as I help Jason up. I could swear this guy can't stop grinning. It's weird. "Unlike you, I've actually got a job today."

"And I don't have a job because why, Beth?"

God, he's annoying. I punch him in the shoulder and get back to work.

* * *

By sundown, we've got a camp. And I'm definitely biased, but it looks far better than usual.

_Perks of giving organising duty to Annabeth Chase_.

Like always, the centerpiece is wood that Thalia finds, doused in lighter fluid and lit by a match. The fire used to be a formality, at the beginning–technically, we had our phone flashlights and it was early summer back then–but we've got no chance of surviving without it now. The air stings. To the left–left being relative, I should probably say the side closer to the border, I've laid out our two remaining sleeping bags. On the other side I've left everyone's personal stuff in their backpacks: my sketchbook, Thalia's spray paints, stuff like that. It's a much better arrangement than the one from our last camp, I think. Leo was in charge of that one, so I'm not all surprised.

Speaking of Leo–he's the one sat closest to the fire right now. We lost our spatula a while back, so now when we heat food, we have to put it in and take it out with our bare hands. Leo is supernaturally resistant to heat– _It's from all those hours I spent fixin' up machines; I'm like, so hot and smart, Annabeth–ow don't hit me_ –so he tends to take care of dinner. Jason and I sit pretty close, too. Thalia's the last to join us.

"Move over."

"M'lady," Leo says, tipping an invisible hat at Thalia. Jason snorts.

Thalia fixes him with a vicious glare. "Valdez, I'm freezing. Move. Over."

I watch the exchange with interest. Thalia's more grumpy than usual tonight. Leo, to his credit, only flinches a little bit.

"Dude, I'm making dinner. You can be more like Jason and Annabeth and wait ten minutes."

"Jason and Annabeth are stupid and they're five years younger than me."

_"Thalia!"_

"I am _four_ years younger than you."

"Annabeth is four years younger than me and stupid. Move over."

"You know, you don't have to worry too much about the cold, since you're so smokin' hot–"

Thalia turns on him so quickly that he yelps and scrambles away, and I grin. Jason tries to chide his sister, but she just sticks her tongue out at him and warms up, and we almost burn the canned beans.

We end up waiting twenty minutes for dinner. But Thalia hasn't smiled like that in a while. I'd say it's worth it.

* * *

So, to address the elephant in the room.

My name is Annabeth Chase. I am seventeen years old. A lifetime ago, I lived with Leo Valdez on the streets of urban Virginia. 

The world is dying.

For months the Decay has clawed into me, raked its teeth in and _twisted_. I wish I could explain it. Right from the start, the whole thing was shrouded in mystery. Biochemists, meteorologists, ecologists; they traveled in droves toward the epicenter, each one vying to be the genius who figured it out. I watched them from Thalia's television, I remember. I used to slam tables and kick buckets, wishing I was there, wishing _I_ was the genius analysing data and reporting facts and saving the world. I really could do it, I used to say. I could rescue us all.

_Stupid. You were so stupid._

Six months later, I'm still struck blind. The last few weeks, before it all went to shit, Mrs. Grace stopped letting Leo and I in. What with being homeless and all, most of the news we heard came from Jason and Thalia. Or technically just Jason. Thalia never paid enough attention to remember the news.

Like all things that matter, it started with a whisper.

_Cracked asphalt. Sputtering lights. Wilted roses._

_They'll figure it out._

_It's coming from the equator. They're all dead now._

_Two more days. Two more days and they'll know._

It was two more days for weeks.

Six months since and it only happens faster. They never even got the chance to name it.

I call it the Decay. Capital D Decay, at least in my head. The other three have been calling it that for a while, too. It rips through the topsoil; it's a gunshot of a disease, and nothing that breathes ever survives. Trees rot from the inside out. The ground collapses right beneath you. The air tastes like cyanide.

Thalia breaks the silence.

"So yesterday's Decay is about two miles out, guys."

"Wha–two miles? Only?!"

"Yeah, I could see it from our perimeter."

The only half-decent thing about the Decay is that sometimes it stops.

"We can't stay for long, then." I finish the last of my beans, stand up, and throw the can toward the Decay, as far away it'll go. No, it's not littering–there's nothing left alive in that direction. "Pennsylvania's right there. We should go tomorrow morning."

"Agreed," Thalia says. I notice her rubbing at the back of her neck. "Any chance we'll find scissors in Penn?"

I crack a small smile. Jason and I make eye-contact, and that smile grows.

"We'll find scissors, Thal."

"The bluntest, ugliest pair of kiddy scissors you've ever seen–"

"Jason I swear to _God–"_

"And as your loyal younger brother I'll give you the world's most lesbian haircut–"

Thalia actually laughs, we're on a roll tonight, and Jason and Leo both lose it and I snort, and it takes us something like three minutes to calm down.

"Okay, okay, _guys_ –" Leo snickers and I make a jab at him, "–first thing tomorrow morning, we're out, alright? Is that okay?"

"As long as I get my scissors," Jason mutters. I shove him away. Thalia nods her assent.

Leo raises his hand. "Actually, Annabeth, could we wait for noon, maybe? The car–no Thalia don't _groan_ at me, I'll cuss you out in Spanish–that car's the best I've seen in a crazy long time. It's got so many parts I still wanna look at."

Jason frowns. "Do you realise how heavy your bag was when I had to carry it, dude?"

"Jason. My friend. My bro. My chico gradapora."

"What in sweet Mary's name is a–"

" _Ahem_. I swear to you these parts are good for us. And I carry my bag, like, ninety-percent of the time."

"Lies," Jason, Thalia and I say in perfect sync.

"Not lies! Annabeth, come _on_. Just till noon."

Jason and I love fighting about who's in charge, but right now I'm the strategist. I look south, where Thalia says the Decay is waiting two miles away, and back to Leo, who's definitely just as smart as I am.

We're better off with more resources. I smile at Leo and nod, and he cheers and high-fives me. It's getting colder by the day, so it's not long before the Graces sleep and Leo and I take turns as lookout.

Twenty hours later, we're in southern Pennsylvania. Two days after _that_ , we're actually in a house. A house with a floor and walls and a brown front door right in the middle of the dull Pennsylvania suburbs, and Leo and I cheer so loud that Thalia screams at us both to shut up.

A _house_. "God, I haven't been in one of these in years," I say as we walk in. I can see Jason grinning like a proud parent, out the corner of my eye, and I have to make the conscious choice not to mock him. Leo's right behind him, eyes full to bursting. I sincerely hope I don't look like that.

"Chill, Smarty." Thalia looks us up and down like she's completely unimpressed. I insult her instead. "The Decay hasn't been around for that long yet."

"Excuse me, madam," Leo says, and I step right near him to give Thalia my best _wow-you're-rude_ stare, "but some of us didn't actually have homes before this mess?"

Thalia bristles. "Valdez, you stayed with us literally every night."

"Grace," he squeaks out, pitching his voice about three octaves higher, "Annabeth and I still really like houses."

"Guys." Jason's voice is so sudden and clear that we all stop. When I look at him, he's staring at the living room and his eyes are shining. "It's a house. Please go one minute without being stupid."

Right behind him, there's the biggest kitchen I ever remember seeing. The living room's got couches and a carpet and a goddamn _TV_. It's big and homely and entirely uninhabited and so so lovely, and it's as pretty as being seven years old. I look back at Jason and smile so hard it presses against my eyes.

The Decay rips through before we can even sit down.

* * *

_"Are you kidding me?!"_

"Run!" Leo shrieks.

Thalia flips off the sky mid-sprint.

"Not even _three_ damn days and you just _have_ to come back–"

"Keep running!" Jason this time, chancing a backward glance at his sister.

"I'm so sick of this shit!"

We do not have the time for this.

"Bloody hell Thalia stop being half-witted and _run!"_

I pause, for a fraction of a second. It's long enough for her to catch up. Then I find her wrist and _pull_ because every last one of our lives depends on this. Thalia recoils so hard that she almost dislocates my arm. But I'm the faster one. I pull back, screaming, and we leave our small house behind.

It's been weeks since I was at the back of the group. I've forgotten what its like. The Decay is right behind me.

All around me suburban lawns plummet, far below into the Earth's rotten mantle. The asphalt holds, but barely, _barely_. It shakes so violently; I trip over my feet. Thalia keeps me standing. The oxygen screams as it dissipates. My lungs grow tight and squeeze shut. My heart panics and sputters. The pulse carries over to my brain and blooms there, batters my skull and it _hurts_ and there are flashes where I lose sight and only see black.

_Don't stop running._

It's hard. So hard–I almost never hang back because of this–but I'm not dying. I know I'm not. I've watched the Decay kill, and I know better than anyone that it doesn't believe in unfinished business. It leaves you dead but never dying. I'm still running. Thalia's at my side, and I know that there's a part of this world that's not yet rotten.

Leo screams something out. Jason answers him. At some point we've switched and Thalia's pulling _me_. That's not too surprising. Ever since the beginning I've always led, and she's always backed the chain of us four. She must be good at resisting the Decay now.

_My sister can hold her breath for so long_ , I hear eight-year-old Jason say. _She makes us do it whenever Mom walks in with more cigarettes._

God, I miss when we were kids. Thalia yells. I don't hear it. I run faster. Suddenly I'm snatched to the side and I shriek before I realise we've probably made a turn. We keep going, going, going–this is the fastest I've ever run, I think, and then all three of them scream, and Leo starts muttering to himself, and Thalia hits something–and then.

And then–we stop?

Wait. We stop. Why are we stopping?

"Annabeth. _Annabeth_." Thalia shakes my arm. "Can you hear me?"

I'm surprised because I can. Which means we're out of the Decay's range. Maybe we made it out. My vision starts to come back. It's in patches. My chest is crushed. I breathe anyways.

"I can hear, I can hear you." 

"Thank God."

"Why did we... stop? Are we clear?"

Colours start to come back. Thalia's faded blue hair. Some graffiti on a nearby wall. Nobody answers me.

"Guys?" They're all so quiet. "I can't see anything. Are we clear?"

"Annabeth."

That's Jason's voice. It's broken. Like he's crying.

"Jason?"

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I thought–"

"It's okay," Thalia murmurs. It's the softest I've ever heard her be. "You did your best, sparky."

_Sparky_. I haven't heard Thalia call him that since I was eight years old. Someone takes my hand. It's pointy and slender and caked with dust. Leo. They're scared. I don't know why.

_That's a lie._

I don't want to know why.

And because Annabeth Chase is nothing if not unlucky, my vision comes back. The world erupts into startling clarity, and I see it.

The dead end alley-way Jason led us to, with no stairs or windows or ledges to climb past it.

The solid, unbroken ground below us, too thick and too new for us to wonder if there's anything beneath it.

Brick construction on either side, grasping for the sky, no entrances, no doorways, no footholds or foundation.

The Decay. Slow now, because we're in the urban part of the city, but already so far in that we can't go back. That we're trapped in a mouldy alleyway.

We're going to die.

My lungs hurt. I can't breathe again. "I–"

_I'm sorry. I could have done better. I love you guys more than anyone or anything. I wish we had more time._

The words taste bitter and I retch. I think I'm crying. So I stop holding hands and instead wrap my arms around the three of them, and I hold them as close as I can.

The Decay's coming. Two minutes tops. I hold them tighter, so close that it can't be good for my ribs. My lungs hurt. I wonder what being Decayed feels like. I'm going to miss being alive.

At the sixty-second mark, someone speaks.

It's not one of us four.

"Wha–Percy, there're survivors out there!"

_What the hell?_

"Hold up. Survivors?"

Thalia looks up sharply. She whispers, "What the f–"

"That's one, two– four. They've got seconds 'til it hits, man."

Jason and Leo are stunned into silence. Thalia's mouth hangs open, like someone just touched her hair. We've got less than a minute. I scan the alleyway again–no ledges, windows, or anything climbable. No garbage cans anyone might be hiding behind. But then I rack my head and look again, and _there_ –a weird poster-tapestry thing to my right, too smudged up and torn to mean anything. I let go of the hug and storm toward it, ignoring the pain in my chest. I rip it away.

There's a tunnel. A _tunnel_ going right through the wall. And in it are two boys my age–a pale, freckled one with auburn hair who looks scared out of his mind, and a taller one who glares back at me with a tenacity to match my own.

There are survivors here. I don't know whether I'm offended, or happy, or embarrassed, or pissed. I look back at Thalia, Leo, and Jason, standing in an alleyway that's about to be torn to shreds.

I hear myself bark out a question. "How the hell are you here?"

The ginger kid squeaks and backs away. The other one–black hair, tan skin, green hoodie–just keeps staring. He doesn't even seem scared. Or confused. It takes him exactly one second to answer me.

"You four, come with us."

The pale kid seems even more scared by that idea. "Dude, Reyna's going to be so pissed–"

"No deaths on my watch, Grover. They're right here."

He looks back at me, and there's the smallest hint of softness in his eyes. 

And the world is ending. And the world is crashing down and we've got minutes and we've got seconds, but when he stretches out his hand I almost step back, because oh _God_ that's familiar. That's–I've lived this life before. It echoes through me, clear as the memory of blue blankets in Thalia's broken home, and there is an assertion, an assurance– _I know this. I know you._

The boy speaks, and moment shatters.

"Are you guys coming? I'd hate to watch you die."

_We're not dead_ , I think. In a whirlwind of a decision I remind myself that I don't know him, even if I do. But we're on death's doorstep. Thalia, Jason, and Leo above all. 

I nod at them, then I nod at the boy, and we scramble into the tunnel. I hope to whoever's listening that I didn't just get us all killed.

_And that's West Virginia_ , someone whispers, as the world outside tears itself apart.


	2. The Lucky Ones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why hello there! im back with chapter two!!
> 
> thank you guys _so_ much for the support on the last chapter. four of you bookmarked this thing. _four._ that's just—insane to me? i love you, thank you.
> 
> we finally meet the seven. and oh BOY doesnt annabeth have some intense trust issues to work through. i edited this a ton, so i really hope you guys like it! 
> 
> enjoy!!

_"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones_

_'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs."_

_– Youth, Daughter_

The tunnel is long, because of course why wouldn't it be? And it's narrow, too–Leo, the skinniest person I know, has to curl in on himself to fit–and we crawl through single-file on our elbows and knees, some of us silent and others seething. 

Outside, a storm rages. 

Here's what they don't tell you about the end of it all: you can always hear it coming.

There's a scream, and that's the howling wind. There's a graceless crash, and that's the city rearranging itself. There's a sickening crack, and that's trees splintering into rotten stumps. There's a chorus, an orchestra muffled by the tunnel that surrounds us, and I hope I'll never have to face it firsthand.

My chest feels tight. I wonder if that's the smell of the mould around us. No one complains so I don't either, but the phantom ache from five minutes ago resurges in full strength and my chest _hurts,_ and it's all I can do not to wheeze.

_I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine._

My chest burns. My arms hurt. Something whines and it sounds awful. But I'm _fine,_ I have to be, the tunnel's got to end eventually and then I can catch my breath, right? My trachea will reopen itself and I'll never hang back during a Decay again. 

I breathe in. Breathe out. I'm _fine_. Black spots snake their way into my vision like it's a goddamn call to arms. _I'm fine_. My chest constricts. Something wraps its calloused hands around my neck (shit shit shit shit shit _shit_ ) and it _pulls_ and I'm ~~_fine fine not fine so not fine_~~ so far from okay that it's got to be some sort of sick joke.

I'm wheezing. I'm gasping, and the air comes in but it's not enough it's not _enough–_

I'm holding up the line. _(Breathe.)_ I have to be. Thalia shouts like the wind does but I don't hear it. _(Breathe, damn it.)_ Someone takes me by my arms and starts heaving, and I'm wheezing and choking all the while.

I heave in sputtering breaths for as long as I can. My vision swims, and my chest screams, and my arms seize up from the pain of being dragged forward, but underneath that all there's light from the tunnel ending and I could cry at how happy I am.

I pass out before the tunnel ends.

* * *

The next time I open my eyes, my chest still hurts. 

Jason is staring. I can't see him–the world is bleeds in washed-out beige watercolour, but there's blonde hair and pale skin. Who else would it be? I lift my arm up, try and swat at him– _such a dork,_ I think, _staying up for me_ –but he grabs my wrist and pushes it back down, with a gentleness and distinct lack of strength that is _not_ Jason. 

I squint at him. It's Jason, but he looks funny, smaller and skinner and shorter. Not-Jason talks, and the voice is pitched higher and the words are drawn-out and and full of long vowels. I don't pick out what he says.

Someone swims into view–a shock of black hair, and a greenish jacket. They and Not-Jason talk. They look familiar. My head pounds when I try to remember them.

Not-Jason stares at me, and I fall asleep again.

* * *

The next time I wake up, everything is–soft?

It's with detached surprise that I realise, holy shit, I wake up. I'm not dead or dying. I'm warm, and only slightly in pain, and starving. And I'm _okay_.

There's a gentle sort of weight that pulls at me, keeps me from sitting up or turning around. I have to blink a few times before I can get my eyes open. But when I do, I actually see, and the daylight is gentle and yellow and fluttery, threading it's way through worn brick walls. When I breathe in, the air–cool air, fresh air, _air_ –smells like petrichor and damp and old age.

I'm not in my sleeping bag. I'm laid out on something infinitely more soft, something with lovely sheets and and a blanket I can burrow into, something that dips and holds me as I stretch– _am I on a mattress?_

I look down, too sleepy to care if I snuggle into the pillow under my head. I am on a mattress. I'm on a soft, low-lit mattress covered in a real blanket, and my face turns downright dopey with joy. The last memory I have of sleeping like this is a hundred years old, cozy and frayed at the edges.

No headache. My chest twinges with ghostly pains, heavy and thick, but nothing like the burning that left me to choke.

I'm alone in the room. There's no sign of my group of four, and if they're somewhere outside their voices are shushed by the gentle whispering of wind through brick walls. There's the bare-bones memory of me and two kids here some time ago. But dwelling on that only leads to confusion, and so I ignore it.

_It's empty. It's foreign. You should be worried_. I sigh into the sheets. I wish I could just– _not_ think like that. _Your friends, the new kids, the other kids, where are they? You can't see them. You don't know where they are._

And I _should_ worry, I know I should.

But I'm so tired. I haven't slept in a mattress since I was seven. The sunlight is all shades of gold. The winter's been so _cold;_ I'm warm here. And Thalia–Thalia would never leave me to die. I trust her. And by extension, I trust this.

It's the warmest little bed. Bed, there's a word I haven't had in forever. I smile again, and it feels like it's got more purpose to it.

When I close my eyes, a little bit of the morning gold shines through.

* * *

I dream of fourteen-year-old Thalia and fifth-grade school projects and endless running. At some point, I wake up again, sticky with warmth. I twist yso that I'm facing the sky, and open my eyes.

Thalia's face is exactly four inches from mine.

I shriek and roll away–what the actual _hell_ – _Thalia-you-actual-crap_ leaves my lips entirely unprompted, and she sits up and has the audacity to actually _cackle,_ the prick.

"About time. Leo was losing his mind."

"Screw you."

She waggles brows. I give her the finger.

The room is about ten times brighter. I stretch, and for the first time in days everything just– _clicks_. The last vestiges of fog dissipate; my mind clears. I imagine my muscles tensing, and they do it. I picture them relaxing; they bend to my will. The room fractures into brilliant detail. The brick inlay comes into focus. I scan and catalogue it all, analytical, deliberate, so wholly _Annabeth Chase_ after so so long. _About time indeed._

Thalia's mouth sets into a thin line. "So what's the damage?"

Her nail polish is flaky. She chewed on her nails, I'm sure.

"I'm... okay, I think." I take an experimental breath. It's just as easy as it was this morning. "My chest hurts–"

"–not surprised, smarty–"

"–yeah, I'm not, either, and I'm a little bit tired, but I think I'm okay."

I give her a small smile and squeeze her wrist–an apology, _sorry I made you worry_ –and Thalia sighs and lets all her tension run dry. Then her face twists into something devious, and she says, "Good enough for visitors, then?"

I laugh. Thalia immediately turns and hollers, _"Hey! Sleeping beauty's up!"_ and a very foreboding crash follows.

"Thalia–"

Jason and Leo barrel into the room, and I barely suppress a shriek before I'm wrenched into a crushing three-way hug. I hear Jason's watery laugh, and Leo's rapid muttering, and through the tiniest gap in the hug I see Thalia, staring at us with a real smile.

"Annabeth, oh my God, _Annabeth–"_

"Holy shit, Chase, I– _mierda,_ how could you–"

"How the hell did you get _rapid-onset bronchitis–"_

"Dude, I tried to visit you and Thalia smacked me so hard–"

Jason rants and Leo shouts and Thalia scoffs and I laugh, and I pull them in and hug them as close as I can. _I love them. I love them_. I hold them until Jason's eyes clear up and I can safely pull away.

"I missed you too, dummies." Behind the two of them, Thalia pretends to gag. _Prick_. "Fingers crossed it's Thalia next time, right?"

"Oh go _die,_ Chase."

"I actually think it's a great idea, Madam Grace," Leo says. Thalia doesn't dignify him with a response.

We sit, sharing the mattress I'm on. Leo sits right near me, turning some musical Spanish word over and over in his mouth. I don't comment on it–his ADHD is about five times worse than mine, and we're all so stressed. I find myself twirling my hair, pulling at the threads snaking out of the blanket.

"So," I begin. I've got to show them I really am unaffected, "rapid-onset bronchitis? How'd you diagnose that?"

"We didn't," Jason says. He sounds impressed. "The guys we found, the ones we followed here?"

Hoodie kid and his terrified ginger friend. I nod; I remember.

"There's, uh. A lot of them. Like a _lot."_

"Think my family before they kicked me out," Leo pipes up.

My pulse picks up. Leo's family was something like nine people.

"Yeah," Jason continues, "and they've got this fifteen year old who's mom used to be a doctor, or something, and he's scarily good at healing people. He took care of you."

"Hm."

A kid two years my junior, saving my life. That's definitely not at all jarring. 

_You went down so fast. You hung back during the Decay once and it nearly killed you. What happens next time? What happens when you leave this new group and there are no more trained medics? You'll die, for real next time–_

"So." I blurt. Leo jumps. "The other kids. Did they ditch us?"

I wouldn't be surprised. Or even mad. Leaving is pure human nature.

Thalia frowns. "'Course not, dummy." I make this weird surprised noise. She jabs a finger at the opening the boys burst in from. "They're all out there. Pretty big place they've got, here. We've been with them for three days."

_Three days_. That's not so bad. Sometimes a lull in the Decaying lasts several weeks. I hope that's the case now. There have been way too many this last month, falling one after the other.

"They're pretty cool, actually," Leo offers, drumming his fingers against the ground. "They share their food, they've got machine parts, they like playing all these weird camping games."

"You should go say hi."

He's right. But also my heart picks up and I don't like it. "You think so?"

"Yeah, Jason's right. Just, like, steer clear of the tall pretty one? Reyna." He says the name with a Spanish lilt. "She's scary as _shit_ , dude. The only one mad about all this... mixing."

I definitely should thank them before we leave. They hardly owed us an escape, much less treatment for my injuries. Very few people stayed kind once the Decay started. 

I stand up and pop my joints, and wheeze only a little bit. For the first time, I survey the strange room I'm in. It looks like a project that was abandoned mid-construction–it's bricks from earth to sky and a thin wooden roof that I'm almost certain is scaffolding. Light streams in from the openings left for windows and cracks in the layers between the bricks. The ground is cement. The walls are damp and old, strewn with pictures and some truly unfortunate graffitti.

I note that, even though the building is less than half-finished, the foundations are strong: the walls are several bricks thick, with telltale black and silver poking out of them that tells me there's steel in there somewhere, and they run deep into the ground, where the cement is packed to make way for walls that are meant to hold. It's the sort of building that will resist the Decay for a fortnight, bending and shaking but never quite crashing. Ugly architecture, but perfect. I'll hate leaving it behind.

I wonder if the other kids chose it on purpose, then. I probably would have found a place this good, right? 

My throat feels tight in a way that has nothing to do with disease.

No, I definitely would have chosen this. Leo pokes me, so I swat at him and he grins, and Thalia leads the way out.

* * *

The room is enormous.

( _"There's seven of them,"_ Jason said a minute ago.

_"Eight, actually,"_ Leo breathed.)

It's bordered by the same withered brick walls. But unlike my empty medical space it's full and colourful and _lively_. 

Moth-eaten carpets patchwork their way across the floor. They're every shade of the rainbow, and they're every shade that's not the rainbow, too. There's a corner where cans and boxes are stacked high, and another where a gas stove is pushed against the wall, and a third where a pit overflowing with stones and dry wood is battered into the ground. Rafters careen wildly from one wall to the other. Some have clothes and rags hanging off of them. One far wall is painted, if crudely–it's dull with blunt edges, but it reminds me of the sunrise. Cushions and couches litter the space, and a single oakwood table lies dead-center, dangerously tilted to one side.

My chest aches.

It's so–so lived in. When is the last time they had to run?

_You could have done it too. They probably had an advantage._

Jason clears his throat. On one of the couches, two kids my age are talking. They turn to us when Jason speaks. The boy is familiar.

"Percy. Reyna." Jason flashes his trademark teacher's pet smile. "Hey guys! This is Annabeth."

_Thank you and leave. The four of us stay safe._

I stand tall, and lock my eyes on the one with windblown black hair. 

It pulls me back in time.

_(Seven years old. Tear-stained and rotten and trembling, miles and miles from home. It's December, and the alleyway is empty, and the Christmas lights are too bright, and I wasn't tall enough to grab my coat from the closet before I ran. I've never been so cold. I wail and choke on my own tears; no one, no one will help, not the strangers and not my dad–_

_But then a girl appears. She's tall, dressed in pretty black and silver, and she holds my hand and we buy hot chocolate. Her hair is blue, and when the owner says I'm too flithy for this place, she snarls. She's brave. I know her.)_

_(Nine years old. Thalia presses an expensive sketchbook and a whole set of art supplies into my shaking hands. "Happy birthday, smarty-pants." A small boy with bleach-blond hair peeks out from behind her, tiny hands tugging at the pins on her jacket. Thalia calls him sparky and nudges him toward me, and he offers me a leather bracelet. "I'm Jason. It's nice to meet you."_

_He's shy and unsure and perpetually glued to Thalia's shadow, but he stands straight and stands tall. His voice never shakes. I know him.)_

_(Twelve years old. I pretend to do schoolwork, but really I'm watching the cafe across the street, because it's a buffet today and surely I can sneak something if I'm careful. I'm planning, when a skinny underfed boy tries to weasel in and promptly gets thrown out. I help him, because I know what homelessness looks like, but all he does is giggle and say things in Spanish. He calls himself Leo. "I'm not really hurt," he whispers. "Now I know how they lock their doors. We're eating good tonight, homeless lady."_

_When I follow his lead, we both feast on leftovers. I don't know it yet, but in two weeks I'll tell him the name of my school. He's a genius. I know him.)_

And for the second time in less than three days, Hoodie kid–Percy, now–sets off the same familiar rush, and I'm left blindsided.

In the split-second panic, my eyes catch the cushions on the ground. We never had time for pillows.

_Good thing you're leaving, right?_

I breathe in. Breathe out. It comes easy, and I force myself to remember that I do not, will not, _cannot_ , know this kid. The apocalypse makes no room for favors, not when there's Thalia and Jason and Leo. I'll say thank you, then pack up and we'll be on our merry way. I will not owe a group I've never once known.

"It's good to meet you." I sound amicable. Percy looks delighted _(not staying)._

I smile. "I really just wanted to, um–thank you. Sincerely. You saved our our lives."

Percy's face is... very earnest. _Silent. Scrutinising. He's trying to hide from you_. He doesn't reply– _you see, he's so obviously struck dumb, you shouldn't stay_ –and I'm never struck dumb, so I keep talking.

"Percy, isn't it? You didn't owe us anything at all–"

If my voice catches on the words, it's entirely involuntary.

–so kudos to you."

He stares. I can't not raise an eyebrow at him. His friend clears her throat and finally he comes to his senses, and Thalia snorts.

"Um. Don't mention it!" He waves a greeting and stands, and the girl sharing the couch with him follows. She's got a slight build, dark hair, and skin slightly darker than Leo's. Reyna, I presume. "It was, um. It was mostly Will, though? I just did the status updates. Your friends missed you a lot."

Leo positively glows, and my smile turns a fraction more real. One of boys in the corner must be Will, because someone to my right double-takes and cheers and rushes toward us, and suddenly there's a boy with sunlit hair and sunkissed skin beaming at me, and he looks so _excited_ that I do the stupid thing and slightly cave.

"Annabeth! Annabeth, ain't it? Good _Lord_ you had us worried, honest-to-God thought you were gone– oh shit, I didn't ask, how do you feel?"

I hold back laughter, because _this_ kid saved my life? There's a Southern lilt to his voice, and even before I answer he starts scrutinising me. It takes me about two seconds to pin him down as the antithesis to Leo Valdez. He's worryingly easy to like.

"I'm great." He puffs up, proud, and a second boy with him–every bit his opposite, with inky hair and olive skin and a too-big coat–scoffs. Will sticks his tongue at him. 

They can't be more than _fifteen._

My chest hurts again.

(There's a serpent, I should explain, somewhere in my chest, twisting. It's been there for some time. And it hurts, but I let it. _They improvised all the way,_ it whispers. _You don't need them. Do not let yourself need them._ )

(It keeps me safe.)

"You did... amazing, actually," I admit. "Wow. I haven't felt this good in forever. Thank you, really."

"Bed rest," Will blurts out, and the boy he's with groans. "You _can't_ exert yourself, your lungs took such a beatin', and you need fluids. Don't ever stifle a cough, I did such a fine job and I will not let you ruin it–"

"Will." Percy chuckles, but it's not patronising. Thalia and Jason swap knowing glances. "You're amazing, dude, but she _just_ woke up–"

"Exactly, we'd like her not to go into remission, Jackson–"

_You know how to take care of yourself, sheesh._

"Cross my heart I won't let it happen." Percy actually crosses his heart, with a lopsided smile that a lifetime ago would have screamed bad news. "You've been at her bedside for like, three days. Go chill with Nico."

Will rolls his eyes, and I repeat thank you polite enough, before the boy on his side takes his hand and gently leads him away.

"Come on, loser." He sounds vaguely accented too. "I wanna play Mythomagic."

"Still gotta teach me, chico!" Leo shouts (should it bother me this much?) and the boy flashes him the middle finger.

"Huh." I cross my arms. "He really spent three days taking care of me?"

"You should have seen him, smarty," Thalia laughs. "Poor kid was _obsessed_ with you. Only gave Percy and me visitation rights."

Thalia makes sense. Percy–he pisses me off. I don't want him lumped in with Thalia. _We're not supposed to owe them._

"I asked Percy to check on you, actually." The girl steps forward. She is supernaturally tall. "I'm Reyna. I've heard a lot about you, Annabeth; it's great to finally meet you."

When she smiles, I picture wolves. I think of Thalia if she was more organised; Jason if he was prouder.

I like her, I decide. She'll make staying at an arm's length that much easier.

"Feeling's mutual." I stare and tilt my head the way Thalia taught me to. _Don't owe them don't owe them don't know them_. "Your place looks great. We won't bother you in it for much longer–"

Reyna's eyes go wide, and her smile almost falls into something real.

And then everyone explodes, serpent included.

"Leave?"

"Annabeth, we can't just go–"

_No, convince them, why wouldn't you leave of course we'll leave I don't like them–_

"We have room for you guys, are you crazy?"

_He called you crazy leave leave leave–_

"Yeah, listen to Percy!"

It's all so loud.

"Hey!" I shout, and they all immediately shut up.

So they have food and seven people and a home and they're living like the world's not gone. So _what_. I can find a house just this perfect and we can forage for our own herbs. We can find a pretty house that won't be torn away in seconds and it'll be us four, the way it's meant to be, without strangers capable of hurting us. The serpent croons, my chest twists, I remember that it's a good thing.

"You guys," I say through gritted teeth, "have been beyond kind. Thank you. You don't have to host us for much longer."

"I– _what?_ " Percy looks like he's losing his mind. _Nice,_ cheers the worst part of me. "Dude, you barely survived the last storm, how the hell do you expect to make it?"

"Jackson." Reyna practically purrs. Thalia puffs out a short, incredulous laugh. "If they want to leave, it's up to them."

"But, we don't want to–"

"Actually, Leo," I bark, "we really shouldn't impose."

" _Annabeth_." Thalia sounds mad. She sounds mad at _me_. The serpent coils.

"We survived all the Decays just fine. Don't see why we need to bug them."

Reyna observes. Percy flounders for an explanation.

Jason grabs my arm, and I whirl on him so fast he drops it like it burns. His voice is pitched high. "Guys. Can we, uh, have a minute with her?"

_What?_

"We'll be right back."

Percy scoffs. "Do whatever you want, man. Couldn't stop you anyways."

Thalia flashes a tight smile and drags me to a far corner. Leo and Jason scramble to follow.

I snatch my arm away.

"What the hell?"

"What the hell yourself, Chase," Thalia hisses. "Your brain run out of oxygen or something?"

She thinks I'm being stupid. She _actually_ called me stupid. I have to laugh.

"I'm sorry, you want us to owe them even more? You wanna be here on their terms?"

"Their terms saved your life, Annabeth," Jason cautions. _Ever the put-together leader_ , the serpent sneers. "They're nice people."

"You don't survive the Decay on nice, Grace."

Seven people? That's more food, more travel time, more lives forever held in the balance. More people that can shove my friends into hellfire. We don't even know them, and we'll indebt ourselves to them?

"That's right." Thalia glares. "You survive it by not being _stupid_ and leaving decent people that helped us because of your goddamn inferiority complex."

"My what?"

Leo jumps between us, panicking.

"Annabeth! Dude! Come on, you're smart, I know you are, you've seen the building, it's a stronghold; and they've got so many of the parts I need–"

_I can find one a thousand times better. I'll bet it has a real roof._

"Nope."

"Two days." He sounds like he's pleading. Part of me wants to snap at him for it. The rest of me says that this is Leo and not the new kids. "Two days, they'll go by like that, and then we'll talk again."

"Leo–"

"Will was right about the bed rest, Beth," Jason says. "You can handle two days."

The serpent seethes. It twists, snaps, coils, _squeezes–_

And it collapses, because when I have I ever not trusted my friends?

I sigh, and my shoulders fall. "Two days," I repeat, and Leo's ensuing small smile feels like being held.

"You're apologizing, too," Thalia mutters. I whirl on her, and– "I don't want to hear it. We were so worried, and they saved our lives. We've been here for a couple days now, and they still saved our lives. You're saying sorry."

I'm the one who made the decision. If I said no, would we have left? Leo would have. Thalia and Jason don't always listen, so I'm not sure. But it's my words spelling our downfall. The serpent croaks; I hate this.

When we go back, Percy and Reyna seem locked in the same war of wills.

"Percy, it's getting colder and _they want to leave–"_

"And it doesn't matter! It's not safe, and the angry one's hurt. I won't watch someone die, alright?"

It's arresting, but Thalia clears her throat and I snap out of it. Soon enough, I'm muttering _sorry_ with my eyes glued to the ground, and Reyna sighs like it's a defeat. Percy to his credit, quietly accepts it. Which doesn't really compute in my mind, but whatever, I guess.

"The sun's almost setting," he announces. "The other guys'll be back soon for dinner."

Jason and Leo both grin, and I stare blankly for a second before I remember, oh, right, I've had this whole morning and I haven't even met them all.

* * *

Jason's telling me about how they do dinner–all slow and measured like I didn't just fight them–when four other kids walk in.

The amount of stuff they're carrying is, frankly, quite ridiculous.

It's in a split-second moment that we all decide _no_ , we absolutely weren't at each other's throats half an hour ago. Does it mean i need to hold back a scowl? Maybe. So what?

Everyone knows everyone except for me, and so I bulldoze through introductions with heated fervor. Piper, Hazel, Frank, and Grover. Percy–who avoids my eyes, _good, he'd better_ –lights up like they're the people who put the stars in the sky, and crushes Grover in what looks like a painful hug. Grover was the other kid I met that scary day, I remember; he shrieks when he locks eyes with me and stutters out a nervous greeting. I barely smile back. Hazel has a hushed conversation with Will's night-sky friend–Nico, I'm informed. He fusses with her coat and rolls his eyes at her, and she tells him with a sweet smile that his fly is open. It's immediately obvious that they're brother and sister.

("Really?" Jason asks me, later that night. "They're not even from the same country."

"She made a beeline for him just to to make fun of his jacket, genius." I think of Jason squeezing blue dye into Thalia's eyes. "That's a brother-sister bond if I've ever seen one.")

Piper seems to be leading their little scouting team. She hums out orders in a soft, lilting tone, and they sort through cans and plastic water bottles and herbs. She's strikingly pretty–probably the most put-together teenager the apocalypse has seen, with glossy flyaway hair and a disturbing lack of pimples. She's the first person to notice I'm there, and beckons me toward where they're sorting the food. I'm about to insist that I don't want to, when Leo nudges me and whispers, "Dude, you'll love her, go," and suddenly I'm talking to the people I don't trust, in a house I don't like. The serpent needs to be shoved far, far down.

"Annabeth, yeah?" She sticks two cans into my hands and grins. "Lovely to meet you! You don't even want to know how excited I was; Reyna's like, twenty, and Hazel's _thirteen,_ I've wanted more girls forever!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh."

Just talking to her relaxes me. Which is... weird. I signal to Leo, and all he does is give me a winning grin and a thumbs up. Asshole.

"I do realise you've been on death's doorstep for a while. Don't worry about talking too much." Piper smiles, all warm. "I just wanted to say hi."

_Don't worry about talking_. What am I, seven? I don't have to trust someone to talk to them.

"Oh! No, no, don't worry about that." I try for a smile. It sorta sucks. "It's great to know you, too. I'm just, um. Figuring out who everyone is."

Piper snorts. "Yeah! There's something like eight of us, I don't even know how. Percy just adopts people."

The sucky smile bends into a half-smile. "Adopts people."

Piper hums and hands me more cans. I follow her lead and stack them against the back wall. 

"So like, you were just existing in the apocalypse and some sixteen year old comes and takes you in?"

"He's seventeen." I scoff. "Oh come on, he _technically_ adopted you guys too."

For a while, I say nothing. Piper squeezes out a half a chuckle.

_~~They all already think you need him~~ would you shut _up _you have literally ruined this day._

"Actually, I chose to stay," I announce, so sudden that she apparently drops canned fruit salad.

"Huh? Oh. Oh! I mean, yeah. But he sorta dragged you into this, right?" She's got weirdly sparkly eyes. I focus on them so I don't snap. "He fought Reyna about it for so long, too."

"Cool." My voice is tight.

"He met most of us at school, before all this, but Will and Nico are fairly recent, and you're here now, again, welcome–!"

My head is pounding. _Say something else oh my_ god _say something else–_

"Uh, Piper?" _Oh thank God_. "Grover wants to know if you'll eat hard lentils."

I turn around. It's the last of them, Frank. He's the tallest boy I've met, all stocky and strong. Frank is the sort of guy you'd never want to fight, except he's been so docile all evening that I'm hardly worried. I turn to him eagerly, and he tentatively waves back while Piper contemplates.

"Is he having hard lentils too?"

Frank shrugs and ambles over to the stove, where Grover's doing something questionable with the fire.

"Can't he just–shout out loud?" I ask.

"I _know,_ right? I've never understood it."

Frank returns. "He's having them dry. Reyna won't let him waste any more water."

"Disgusting. I'll have them dry too. Thanks Frank!"

Once he's left, Piper turns to me and grins. "I know you find me annoying right now, but I assure you we _will_ find something fun to talk about. I'm vegetarian, there's relationship gossip, and I know what this building used to be. Choose something."

Well. Diet is boring, and this building sets off too many feelings. "There are... relationships here?"

" _Two._ Frankly quite ridiculous if you ask me."

And we go back to sorting. Piper gets talking, and screw Leo on every level, but he's right–it's lovely to listen to.

* * *

They do campfires.

And, well, of course they do; that pit's not there for nothing. But _hell,_ doesn't it remind me of a lonely grassy campfire from three days ago. We sit in a massive circle–Leo on my right, Piper and Jason on my left, Thalia right across. As Piper has explained in great detail, Will and Nico sit together ( _"They're in love, your honor!"_ ) and so do Hazel and Frank, and everyone else piles up into little friend groups.

We don't do much. It's not like we have marshmellows, and I've pretty much antagonised half the attendees. 

Instead, everyone whispers.

They're soft murmurs, uttered in rapid-fire and scattered into the glowing embers; _how was the supermarket, I saw a butterfly, I don't care if goddamn Reyna cooks Grover you're shit at this._ I hear all of it. I hear none of it. Instead I sit there, focusing on the way the fire snaps at my toes, and everything else washes all over me; eight broken teenagers we've chained ourselves to, quietly giggling in the moonlight.

Percy taps his feet a lot. And runs his hands through his hair. He's tan; fire turns him all pink, and I definitely shouldn't stare but he's stimming a suspicious amount. Maybe he's ADHD like Leo and I?

Sometime into the night, he starts singing to himself, in the same glazed way Leo sometimes does, and yup, that's– _something_. Not necessarily ADHD, but I'll take my chances. It used to be a party song, back when things mattered. But now Percy sings it slowly, like it hurts, and there's no crescendo to back the lyrics. In the dead of the night, it sounds sad.

The chatter fizzles out, and Percy still sings, unaware until Grover clears his throat and he takes a moment to realise we're all listening.

"Keep going." Piper says. "It's nice."

And so Percy sings of leaving the world behind, and everyone, even Leo sings with him, and when it's eleven voices reverberating in a cracked building it sounds just a little happier.

I don't know the song. It's one of those quirks of being homeless since seven.

_Two days,_ Leo says. And–I don't _like_ them, but I see what my friends mean. They're not inherently awful. I still plan on leaving.

Maybe I'll have time to learn the song. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, uh.
> 
> madam needs therapy, huh.
> 
> can i just say that writing these dumb kids is like—almost impossible? because rick essentially gave them no friendship or personality? _RICK?!_ i hated it hated it hated like _dude_ i beg you give these kids a personality, oh my God.
> 
> please do comment!! i love reading them and respond to every single one, and they convince me to keep writing :)
> 
> see ya soon for chapter three!!

**Author's Note:**

> You wanna comment so bad. You are staring at that keyboard and empty text box and oh BOY do you wanna comment.
> 
> (please, please consider it. They truly mean so much <3)
> 
> Otherwise, please consider leaving kudos and subscribing!! I have so much lore (and by that i mean HOLY SHIT THE BACKSTORIES I'VE GOT) and it's all so lovingly planned and i really want you guys to be here!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Love, Mariam


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